


You Started a Fire Even the Rain Couldn’t Put Out

by MossyLogs



Series: You and I, Slowly Burning Together [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A little bit of violence, Bottom Jschlatt, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drunk Sex, Evil Wilbur Soot, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Insane Wilbur Soot, M/M, Mentioned Dave | Technoblade, Rape/Non-con Elements, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Wilbur Soot, Unconsciousness, Villain Wilbur Soot, no beta we die like men, schlatt is being dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossyLogs/pseuds/MossyLogs
Summary: Wilbur and Schlatt find themselves trapped in a cave together during a bad rainstorm. Things start escalating as Schlatt does what he does best and starts talking shit. What he doesn't realize is how Wilbur only needed a spark to send him off the edge.
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Series: You and I, Slowly Burning Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063316
Comments: 66
Kudos: 494





	You Started a Fire Even the Rain Couldn’t Put Out

**Author's Note:**

> lmao I've never written smut let's hope this isn't shit  
> this concept is also really out of date because this took me so long to finish for no reason but I don't care bro

Wilbur hated the rain. He hated the way that it stung his face when he tried to look at the sky. He hated the darkness its clouds draped the world in. He hated the way those cold droplets rolling off his chin made him feel like he was crying. Crying was a luxury Wilbur could no longer afford.

The rain hadn’t always provoked such a visceral reaction in the revolutionary. There had been times he’d even enjoyed it. Certainly, there was something to be said for the feeling of standing safely indoors, watching the water pour down outside. But those were the carefree days of L’manburg, long since gone. Pogtopia didn’t even have windows to gaze out of. Rain was now just the cold drumming of water on the ceiling, not to mention annoying.

It seemed to rain a lot more after the election. Giant storms would pop up out of nowhere on otherwise pleasant days. Tommy would say that it was because even nature knew that Schlatt was a shitty leader, but Wilbur figured this was probably just the SMP’s regular rainy season or something. That didn’t make it any less frustrating to deal with though, especially when one is trying to start a revolt.

That day had been as clear and warm as any other when Wilbur set out from their little hide away. Techno had been going on about how far Pogtopia was from Manburg and that they needed to have a closer outpost. So, Wilbur was going to hunt around for place to build just that, in addition to just wanting to get away from Tommy for a while. The kid really didn’t know how to shut up sometimes. It was almost like he fucked with Wilbur on purpose.

Wilbur wandered around no man’s land for quite some time, muttering under his breath to himself. It was nice to just walk and collect his thoughts. He didn’t have much time to himself these days and it was starting to get to him. Every day he teetered just a little bit closer to the edge. Edge of what? He wasn’t sure.

Before he had time to fully unravel his complex thoughts, let alone do what he set out to do in the first place, the sun vanished behind thick, dark clouds. Hastily, Wilbur pulled out and lit a torch. He hoped to have a few minutes to sprint back to Pogtopia before the inevitable storm and doing so in the dark would only lead to him breaking his ankle or something. It ended up being a waste of time though, as no sooner had the fire begun to blaze than the first water droplet hit Wilbur’s face. Fucking damn it.

Ten minutes later and Wilbur was booking it blindly through the pouring rain, thoroughly drenched. He was completely lost at this point, which didn’t bode well for his probability of finding shelter. Yet when the familiar dip in the ground of a cave met his eye, Wilbur abandoned the idea of trying to find civilization. In three strides, he was there and with a reckless dive, he was inside.

You never quite realize what a truly pitch black place looks like until you’re enveloped in it. Wilbur stumbled around in the void for a few moments before his fingers found the cold stone of a wall. Slowly, he slid down to sit, shivering in the dark. Numb fingers dug around in his satchel as his eyes flittered around the emptiness before him. The rain was thundering outside but he could still hear his shaking breaths. What shit situation.

As was often the case with Wilbur’s luck, shit went to hell in a matter of moments. Just before he could light his second (and last) torch, Wilbur finally noticed the other sound permeating in the dark: faint breathing. It was as if someone, or something, was just as out of breath as he was but was trying to hold their pants back. No doubt they had heard him enter; he hadn’t exactly been subtle. Wilbur’s mind immediately jumped to a monster, some wretched zombie or creepy skeleton. Yet such an unsavory creature would have no doubt jumped him immediately, following his sound or smell in the dark. It had to be a person.

Unsure what to do, Wilbur sat frozen in the dark, listening to the other person’s shallow breaths. Eventually, he determined that there was no real point in sitting in silence like this. It could be Tubbo or Nikki, someone on his side. Hell, Wilbur could probably weasel his way out of a fight with some of the less hostile Manburg residence. Figuring probability was in his favor, Wilbur lit the torch.

“Jesus Christ!” Wilbur’s stomach dropped at the familiar surprised cry of the other man in the cave.

Blinking harshly in the sudden light, Wilbur struggled to look at the person on the other side of the cave, the president himself. “Schlatt?”

“Wilbur, you asshole!” Schlatt was rubbing at his eyes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been in the dark? You can’t just go lighting a fucking sun in here without any warning.”

“Sorry,” Wilbur sneered, hand inching toward his satchel despite him knowing there was no weapon inside. “If I’d known there was a little bitch in here, I would’ve given a more courteous warning.”

Schlatt pulled his hands down to glare. “Laugh it up, outcast. Laugh it up all the way to jail, why don’t you?”

Wilbur just rolled his eyes. For a few seconds, they sat in uncomfortable silence, and Wilbur noticed the slight redness around Schlatt’s eyes as he continued to glare. They were both soaked but Schlatt looked like a drowned rat. There were several empty beer bottles scattered around him, and an unopened one in his lap. Wilbur’s lip curled in disgust. Schlatt noticed, his fingers curling around the neck of the bottle in his lap.

“Don’t you realize you’re in Manburg territory?” Schlatt finally continued. “What makes you think you can just walk in here?”

Wilbur startled a little at that. “Manburg territory? Are you sure? I don’t think I went that far…”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure. You think I don’t know my own damn country? Either way, as far as I’m concerned this whole SMP is my territory.”

“Wonder what Dream would say to that.”

“Fuck Dream, he’s a beta.” Schlatt stood up, beginning to smirk and Wilbur sank back ever so slightly. “The point is you’re here without a visa.”

“Oh? Were you being serious about that jail bullshit?” Wilbur tried to maintain his nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Schlatt said plainly.

Wilbur almost laughed at that. “L’manburg doesn’t have any jails.”

“But Manburg does.” Schlatt was practically grinning at this point.

They stared at each other silently again. Schlatt was probably trying to tower over Wilbur menacingly but the gentle plops of the water dripping off of him was ruining the mood. In fact, he was swaying quite noticeably, the beer bottle still in his grasp. Wilbur smiled a little, slowly standing up himself. He held the torch between them, titling it ever so slightly towards Schlatt and not missing the way he leaned back.

“Well, then,” Wilbur muttered just loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain. “Why don’t you go get the police? Have them arrest me.”

Schlatt’s smile sank into a barely visible frown. His eyes flickered to the cave’s entrance before returning to meet Wilbur’s again. Just like that they both understood the situation. They were stuck there together. There was no way to navigate in the rain and neither of them had weapons. All their taunts were empty and they both knew it.

“You got lucky this one time, Wil,” Schlatt muttered, turning to go sit against the wall again. “Show your stupid pretty face to me again and I’ll shove it into the obsidian of our new jail.”

Wilbur kept standing, watching Schlatt sink to the ground and avoid eye contact. It was almost funny. Somehow, in that damp, isolated little cave, with no one to back him up, Schlatt didn’t seem so intimidating. Wilbur watched him struggle to open what looked like his last bottle. They had almost been friends once, long ago. That was a different time, a different place. Wilbur was practically a different person. He wondered if Schlatt remembered that.

Silently, Wilbur crouched down by his satchel and began pulling out the materials to build a campfire. The rain didn’t sound like it was going to let up soon and he desperately wanted to dry off. It might end up being a long night. Luckily, only some of his wood had gotten drenched so some of it was still usable. He hoped so at least.

-

Nearly an hour had gone by with neither of them saying anything. Schlatt had taken his jacket off and was silently ringing it out. There was a shocking amount of water in it for a single piece of clothing. Wilbur had stripped down to only his undershirt and pants, setting even his socks to dry by the campfire. He sat with his knees close to his chest, trying not to wish he were back in L’manburg, trying not to cry. Schlatt sneezed quite violently all of a sudden and they both froze. They stared at each other.

“Not gonna say bless you, huh asshole?” Schlatt mumbled after a few moments.

“Curse you,” Wilbur retorted, burring his smirk in his knees.

Oddly enough that seemed to genuinely upset Schlatt and he turned a little more fully away from Wilbur. Bemused, Wilbur looked up. Honestly, Schlatt was starting to look a little pathetic. After downing all his alcohol, he seemed a lot more miserable. There were still water droplets falling from his horns and brown curls. He’d taken his tie off and was uncomfortably pulling at his dress shirt that was sticking to his skin. Wilbur didn’t stare at his chest. He didn’t.

Wilbur sighed a bit dramatically. “Just fucking come over here already and dry off…”

“What?” Schlatt’s head turned ever so slightly. “What was that?”

“I’m not saying it again dickhead.”

Likely deciding not to push his luck, Schlatt grabbed his jacket and tie and shuffled over awkwardly. They continued not saying anything as Schlatt settled down. He started shaking his hair out a bit by the fire, sending water droplets flying.

“Hey, don’t- you’ll put it out!” Wilbur sat up reaching across the fire to grab at him.

Schlatt smacked his hand away. “You said dry off and that’s what I’m doing.”

Wilbur was starting to get pissed but he just sat back down again, watching Schlatt carefully. If he tried anything, Wilbur was starting to become confident that he could beat the shit out of him. He could probably even beat him to _death_ if he wanted. Wilbur smiled a little at the thought. Still, deep down he knew that it wouldn’t even matter if he killed Schlatt. It would only pass the problem on to another person. Everything was different now. Schlatt shook his hair out again and Wilbur started thinking it might be worth it just for the catharsis.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” Schlatt snapped, breaking Wilbur out of his homicidal daydreams. “You’re so fucking creepy. That’s probably why you lost. No one wants to vote for a creep, Wil.”

Wilbur ground his teeth a little. “Right… because you’re such a decent person.”

“Being decent doesn’t matter in politics… being creepy does put people off though.”

“Just shut up already,” Wilbur groaned.

Of course, that only spurred Schlatt on. “I bet you’ve creeped everyone out from the beginning, that’s probably why none of them have joined you and the brat in your little-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I do Wilbur.” Schlatt slurred the words, grinning as he leaned forward. “You should hear the shit they say about you now that you’re gone, Niki and Fundy and the rest. They don’t care about you anymore and they certainly aren’t on your side, no matter what they tell you.”

Wilbur finally met his eyes again, glaring more weakly than he would like to admit. “I was a better leader than you’ll ever be.”

“Right, because you’re so much of a better person, is that it? You think you’re some fucking saint that all the pure little boys and girls will come running back to as soon as you shoot me in the back?” Schlatt gestured up and down. “Look at yourself. Good lord man have some fucking self-awareness. You’re an old dictator trying to overthrow a democratically elected president.”

“No one _wanted_ you to win!” Wilbur exploded, startling both of them. “You weren’t even supposed to run-”

“Because you rigged the election? I was voted in. Fair and square, you know it. _Someone_ had to vote for me, didn’t they? Who do you think it was? Aliens?”

Wilbur couldn’t breathe all of a sudden, hearing all the thoughts he’d been pushing down for weeks out loud. “Shut up…”

“Face it, Wilbur. You’re the _bad guy_.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Wilbur was on his feet before he could fully process what he was doing. He leaped over the fire, grabbing a hold of Schlatt’s horns, and shoving his head into the ground. Schlatt let out a surprised yelp, as if he hadn’t been proverbially poking the bear for the past two minutes. Wilbur straddled his chest, slamming his head into the ground twice more before Schlatt’s hands flew up in a weak attempt to stop him.

Startled by himself, Wilbur let go. Schlatt’s hands fell back down and he practically fucking whimpered. If it hadn’t been evident before, Wilbur was starting to realize what Schlatt was saying was true. He started shaking, staring at down his hands. What was he doing? What was he trying to accomplish here? He was… being selfish. He’d always been selfish, hadn’t he?

Schlatt laughed weakly. “What’d I tell ya? Classic villain…”

Wilbur didn’t know what to do anymore. If he still wanted to be a ‘good’ man, he would have to give up everything he’d fought for. It would all be meaningless. He’d have to start all over again. But as he watched Schlatt shift underneath him, he knew that everything he’d fought for had already been lost. There was no point in being ‘good’. A spark ignited in his soul.

“I guess… I’ll just have to commit.” Wilbur said darkly.

“What?” Schlatt tried to sit up.

Wilbur laughed, shoving him back down. “I guess I’ll just have to be the bad guy, won’t I?”

“What… You’re serious?”

It seemed for likely the first time in his miserable life, Schlatt was realizing that his words had just fucked him over. He’d messed with someone and now it was coming around to ruin him. Wilbur was his fucking karma, and he was much obliged to be it.

“Hang on, Wilbur. Let me up-”

Wilbur slapped him.

“You’re not very strong for a leader, you know that? You haven’t fought in any wars, have you?”

“Wha-” Schlatt blinked for a couple seconds, seeming almost unable to process this shift in events. “Of course not! I brought peace to Manburg-”

“ _L’_ manburg,” Wilbur corrected, accompanying it with another slap.

Glaring daggers, Schlatt tried to continue. “I don’t take Ls, bitch. Manburg is more peace-”

This time Wilbur punched him, “You can either take this _L_ , Schlatt, or I’ll fucking force you to take this _D_ too.”

That seemed to really startle Schlatt. He looked to be rapidly growing more uncomfortable being trapped underneath Wilbur. He started trying to squirm out, pushing at Wilbur’s chest. Wilbur didn’t move an inch. Slowly, Wilbur began to feel this incredible emotion swelling in his chest. Something he hadn’t realized he’d been chasing. Power. He felt powerful. He stared down at the man beneath him. He was supposed to be a great ruler. But to Wilbur, he was an ant. He grabbed Schlatt’s throat.

“Say it.”

“Fuck off,” Schlatt hissed, grabbing a fist full of Wilbur’s hair, and trying to yank it out.

Wilbur caught his wrist and ripped it away, slamming it into the stone and leaning in closer. “Say it correctly, Schlatt.”

“You don’t have any power anymore,” Schlatt tried to smile but it came across more as a grimace. “You’re just a fucking outcast who doesn’t have any say in-”

Wilbur started to squeeze his throat and Schlatt gasped. His free hand tried to pull Wilbur’s off of his neck. Ignoring it, Wilbur leaned in even closer until his lips hovered above Schlatt’s. He could smell the damn alcohol in the warm air between them.

“One last chance, bitch.” He loosened his grip.

“L-L’manburg!” Schlatt sputtered the moment he had air again.

“Good boy,” Wilbur mocked, leaning back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? You’ll have to get used to taking Ls, Schlatt. There will be a lot more coming from now on.”

Neither of them seemed to notice that the rain had stopped. They just stared at each other in the soft light of the campfire. Schlatt feeling as though his hubris had just created a fucking monster and Wilbur feeling as though the chains that had been weighing him down were finally lifted. In the light of the campfire, shirt sticking to his chest, face red from the alcohol and lack of oxygen, and dark brown eyes blown wide, Wilbur started to think Schlatt wasn’t looking so pathetic anymore. He looked _delicious_.

“Let me up.” Schlatt tried to move again but Wilbur caught his shoulders.

“Why? The night’s still young…”

“Wha-” Schlatt finally saw what was lurking in the depths of Wilbur’s eyes, something familiar, an uncontrollable lust for power. “Wilbur, what the hell is wrong with you? You said if I-”

“I’m the bad guy, remember Schlatt?” Wilbur threw his arms out dramatically, laughing at the fear on Schlatt’s face. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Do bad guys mean what they say?”

“Were you seriously that close to losing it?” Schlatt whispered, expression uncharacteristically stunned. “Was that all it took?”

Wilbur didn’t give an answer. He didn’t have one. Electing to deafen the buzz of uncomfortable questions with the ecstasy his chase for power was providing, Wilbur grabbed Schlatt’s face and forced their lips together. He wasn’t even sure he was attracted to Schlatt like that, let alone men. But the feeling of warmth on his lips, and the way Schlatt was squirming to get away but _couldn’t_ was addicting. When was the last time he kissed someone? He couldn’t remember.

Schlatt was grabbing at his hair again, though still not in the sexy way. It was more of a desperate clawing, accompanied with violent shoves to his shoulders and wild punches. Frustrated, Wilbur pulled away to grab both of his wrists. The second their connection broke, Schlatt started screaming an incomprehensible string of profanities. He was kicking his legs now too, and while Wilbur was undeniably stronger and more proficient in fighting (not to mention sober), it was getting hard to keep him down. It was pissing Wilbur off to an extent he didn’t realize was possible.

“Don’t make me hurt you Schlatt,” Wilbur snarled, barely able to keep Schlatt’s wrists in his grasp. “You have to learn to get off your fucking high horse for once and-”

“And blow you?!” Schlatt screamed, sending spit flying into Wilbur’s face. “Fuck no! You’re not fucking me Wil, no one fucks me! I do the fucking!”

“Not this time.” Using all of the strength he could muster, Wilbur forced Schlatt’s arms above his head.

“Stop, Wilbur! Fucking stop or-”

Wilbur leaned over, beginning to kiss and suck at Schlatt’s neck. Schlatt’s choked on his words, freezing for a moment before continuing his struggling. But now he was silent. Wilbur bit into his skin and Schlatt gasped. This time he stopped and stayed frozen, only shaking slightly. Wilbur continued biting and sucking until he felt the coppery taste of blood in his mouth. He leaned forward until he was inches Schlatt’s ear.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. It’s up to you, Schlatt. This doesn’t have to hurt.” Wilbur was lying but Schlatt didn’t need to know that. He wanted it to hurt. “Relax, yeah?”

Schlatt whipped his head to the side, sinking his own teeth into Wilbur’s skin, more specifically his ear. Wilbur screamed, both hands flying to Schlatt’s jaw to try and free himself. Schlatt let go and immediately punched Wilbur in the face. As he lurched backwards, Schlatt pushed him fully off and nearly into the fire.

“Fuck you Wilbur Soot!” Schlatt cried, scrambling to his feet, and sprinting for the entrance.

For a moment, Wilbur was too stunned to do anything but watch him. For another moment, he watched him run willingly, thinking he would never get far in the rainstorm. It took him another full moment after that to realize that the rain had stopped. Schlatt shot him a brief middle finger as soon as he realized this too.

“Shit,” Wilbur breathed, struggling to his feet, and giving chase.

The sun had long since set at this point and the clouds were still draping the sky in darkness, so visibility was still low. Wilbur regretted not bringing his torch with him, to be able to see but also for the potential to burn Schlatt’s face off. Not only that but he hadn’t bothered to put his boots or socks back on. Although the adrenaline was quelling any pain in his feet. At first it seemed Schlatt had disappeared into the darkness, but he wasn’t exactly being quiet.

“Quackity!” He was screaming, drunkenly tearing through the forest like he was trying to break every twig. “George! Help me dammit, Wilbur is fucking crazy!”

Wilbur was gaining on him; he could feel it. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how close to Manburg they actually were. A tiny part of him thought that this was insane, he should be heading back to Pogtopia not chasing Schlatt through the woods barefoot in the middle of the night. But Wilbur had already decided he needed this. He needed to win at this one thing. He need to put Schlatt in his damn place for once. He needed to prove to himself that he was committed.

“Shit-” The unmistakable squish of someone landing in mud brought a smile to Wilbur’s face. “Fuck, shit! Holy shit-”

And indeed, Schlatt was struggled to pull himself off the ground, the entire front of his shirt and pants covered in mud. His head whipped around like a cornered animal when he heard Wilbur approaching. Wilbur snatched a branch from the ground, very much intending to beat Schlatt’s brains out.

“George! Quackity!” Schlatt screamed, sounding genuinely terrified in a way that sent jolts of electricity through Wilbur’s body. “Help, guys for fucks sake! Tubbo!”

Wilbur paused mid-swing at that last name, Tubbo. Schlatt froze too, still on his knees and staring at Wilbur with wide eyes. What would Tubbo think of this? If he actually came to Schlatt’s call, what would he say? Wilbur’s arm shook. What was Tommy going to say? Schlatt’s words permeated in his head. _They certainly aren’t on your side, no matter what they tell you. They’re lying. They’re all lying._ It didn’t matter what they thought. Wilbur had to commit.

Wilbur laughed brokenly, “I hope you know you did this to yourself, Schlatt. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

For once in his damn life, Schlatt didn’t say anything. It seemed he finally realized the weight of his words. He was panting heavily and trembling. He raised his arms weakly as if to beg for mercy with only body language. It didn’t work.

Wilbur slammed the branch into Schlatt’s skull, once, twice, until he crumpled into the mud. He wasn’t unconscious, that certainly wasn’t what Wilbur wanted, but he was dazed. Wilbur got onto his knees and grabbed Schlatt by the shirt, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of mud seeping through his jeans. Schlatt was completely limp, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open. Blood raced from his forehead to meet the mud and dirt on his cheeks.

Enjoying the little grunts of pain he was letting out, Wilbur dragged him to a less muddy spot. Finally, Wilbur straddled him again. He leaned down to lick the blood off Schlatt’s face, who jerked his head away, immediately groaning at his own sudden movement. The adrenaline that had slowly been building throughout the night was now beginning to become unbearable as Wilbur ran his hands across Schlatt’s muddy chest. Right now, this was _his_. And he could do whatever he wanted. Suddenly feeling entirely too warm, Wilbur ripped his undershirt off, using it tie Schlatt’s hands above his head as he seemed to be coming around again.

“W-Wil…”

“Shhh,” Wilbur connected their lips briefly. “We both know I’ve won. Just accept it.”

Slowly, he started to slide his hand downward, smiling at the way Schlatt squirmed beneath him. His fingers stopped at the waistband of his pants. Unable to smother the grin seemingly sown into his lips now, Wilbur popped the button opened and unzipped them. Oddly enough, Schlatt was already half-hard.

“I fucking knew you were a masochist.” Wilbur glanced up to meet Schlatt’s blazing eyes before they darted away. He felt like he was on fire the way his skin was burning to fuck him into the dirt. “You’re really gonna enjoy this then, huh?”

“Fuck you.” Even as the words were spoken as a whisper, Wilbur could hear the shake in them.

“Oh, I intend to.” Wilbur reached into Schlatt’s undone pants and grabbed his cock.

Schlatt jolted, pressing himself into the dirt. Wilbur knew his hands were uncomfortably dry, but he started stroking anyway. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Schlatt looked resolutely off into the distance. The growing tent in Wilbur’s own pants was becoming painful so he started rutting against Schlatt’s thigh. He was so hot it was excruciating. His hand was on fire, he could feel it boiling. Ripping it out of Schlatt’s pants, he slammed it into the mud. Instant relief.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Schlatt choked out as Wilbur stared at his mud covered hand.

Wilbur didn’t answer. The mud was nice and cool, an intoxicating contrast to the warmth of the man beneath him. Sticking the newly lubricated hand back into his pants, Wilbur started pumping Schlatt’s dick with what must have been a painful ferocity. It seemed as though Schlatt was on the brink of hyperventilating, his eyes squeezed shut and his chest rising and falling rapidly. But the tiny whimpers and moans that slipped out between gasps for air were enough to drive Wilbur mad. 

Pressing his face into Schlatt’s neck, breathing in the scent of alcohol, smoke, and earth, Wilbur reached his free hand down to undo his own pants. Although he was nowhere near the sweet release he was chasing, he felt as though he was going to explode. Schlatt, the man he had feared and hated for months, was fucking putty in his hands now. If the growing noises and tiny twitches of his hips were any indication, Schlatt was nearing explosion too.

Tangling his fingers in the brown curls on his enemy’s head, Wilbur brought his lips to his ear. “Go on, cum.”

With a choked sob and a sharp buck into Wilbur’s hand, Schlatt came. For several seconds Wilbur continued running his hand up and down Schlatt’s length until the man was literally writhing beneath him. He was openly crying now too, the tears mixing with the blood and mud already on his face. Wilbur thought about adding another fluid to the mix before reconsidering. He already knew what he wanted to do. Pulling away, he looked down at the man beneath him.

“Oh Schlatt…” He breathed. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

The president didn’t answer. His unfocused eyes just stared up at the sky as tears leaked out of them. Wilbur thought he had never looked more beautiful. He knew Schlatt would hate to hear as much.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful…”

Schlatt closed his eyes and Wilbur laughed darkly. With every shaky breath he took, Wilbur could feel the blistering fire in his skin growing. A rain droplet tumbled from a tree branch somewhere above them and rolled down his face. It stung. Strangely, a tiny part of him wanted to just stay still until the fire ate him alive. The trembling man beneath him squashed that idea.

Harshly, he grabbed Schlatt by the hips and flipped him over. Tiny words of protest met Wilbur’s ears as he pulled Schlatt’s pants down to his knees. _Fuck- no- god please- no- Wilbur-_ They were the perfect song to pour gasoline on Wilbur’s blazing mind. The smile vanished from his face when the words devolved into a slurred string of other people’s names. As if those people would suddenly appear and save him. As if they could stop Wilbur now. As if any of those people gave a shit about either of them. Wilbur shoved his muddy fingers into Schlatt’s mouth.

“Enough.”

Ramming his fingers deep enough to draw lovely choking noises out of the other man, Wilbur pulled his leaking dick out of his pants. Unable to wait a moment longer, he ripped his fingers from Schlatt’s mouth with a wet _-pop-_. Not giving enough of a shit to bother with actual decent prep, Wilbur pressed two fingers into the man beneath him.

“Agh- Fuck!” Schlatt cried out into the dirt, his arms straining to break their restraints.

Wilbur breathed a laugh, mind going numb with the feeling of even just having his fingers inside Schlatt. Oh, how the ‘mighty’ had fallen. Said ‘mighty’ dug his fingers into the dirt as Wilbur scissored his fingers halfheartedly. Both of them knew the charade that Wilbur was putting up of trying to make things easier was pointless.

“Stop, god, stop it-” Schlatt sobbed. “Just fucking get it over with, please- stop-”

“Anything for you, princess.”

Another wonderfully wet _-pop-_ and Wilbur ran his muddy, saliva covered fingers up and down his length a few times. His body shook with anticipation as positioned himself over Schlatt’s hole. At last, Wilbur thrusted his hips downward.

“Fuck-” Wilbur gasped, slowly pressing himself deeper. “Schlatt- ugn, you’re so tight a-and _warm_.”

The president, the absolute slut that he was, was desperately sucking in air, shuddering with Wilbur’s every movement. When he’d forced his entire length in, Wilbur paused. He burned the moment into his brain. Pulling out until only his tip was left inside, he slammed back inside. Schlatt fucking screamed.

Picking up a ruthless pace, Wilbur felt all of his guilt and loneliness melt in the face of the inferno of pleasure consuming him then. It seemed Schlatt had given up on trying to hold back any noises, choked sobs and gasps mixing with moans and whimpers. Wilbur’s face pressed into his neck again, Schlatt felt himself practically sinking into the wet ground with each thrust. Warm blood mixed with the other fluids running down his thighs.

When a particular thrust ripped a shockingly needy moan from Schlatt, Wilbur smiled into his skin. Angling his hips just right, he thrust into the spot with a punishing tempo. He almost felt like a beast tearing apart its prey with the sound of Schlatt’s screams echoing into the night air. Wilbur wondered how close they were to Manburg, if anyone could hear, if anyone gave a shit. He couldn’t wonder for long though, as Schlatt seemed to grow impossibly tighter with each movement. His hips stuttered in their movement, warmth rising in his gut.

“Uhn, cum again, Schlatt.” Wilbur reached his hand around to grab the other man’s dick. “Cum with me-”

“I-I can’t,” Schlatt sobbed.

Wilbur bit his shoulder. “You will.”

With another thrust to his prostate and fingers running along his length, Schlatt came again. A broken noise left his lips as he squeezed around Wilbur. With a scream of his own, Wilbur’s seed exploded deep into Schlatt. As his hips spasmed a few last thrusts, the heat became absolutely agonizing. His skin was on fire for those few moments, he was certain of it.

Then it was cold. They both lay there in the cold, damp, night air in silence. Neither of them even dared to breathe. And then, just as when they’d first run into each other earlier in the night, the only sound Wilbur could hear was Schlatt breathing. He’d passed out. After all that, he’d passed out.

“Coward…” Wilbur muttered, pulling out.

Staggering to his feet, Wilbur felt empty. It was over and he couldn’t stand the aftertaste the experience was leaving him with. So, he ignored it. Slowly beginning to dress himself, Wilbur allowed the spark, weak and dull, to start another fire in his head. There was no reason to kill Schlatt, no. But there were other ways to ruin him and everything he’d turned L’manburg into. Namely, flat out destroying it. Wilbur smiled. Perhaps he’d wanted to be the bad guy all along.

“Wilbur…” A familiar monotone voice broke the silence. “What are you doing?”

Only briefly glancing back, Wilbur noticed the crossbow pointed in his direction. He huffed a little, disappointed at the sudden souring of the moment. He continued cleaning himself up, tilting his head as he stared down at Schlatt.

“Come on, Techno…” Wilbur finally spoke. “No need to be hostile. Don’t you always say fuck the government? Well I did, _literally_.”

Techno’s grip on the crossbow tightened as Wilbur cackled at his own joke. He could only see the pig in his peripheral vision, but that much was clear. Unsure why Techno was so pissed, he stared down into the dirt.

“What the hell happened?”

Wilbur hummed thoughtfully. “I had a bit of a revelation. I’d say we’re on the same page now, you and I. Anarchy, right?”

Techno seemed taken aback by that. “W-well, yes but Wilbur-”

It was raining again, Wilbur noticed as he finally met Techno’s horrified eyes. They darted away, landing on Schlatt’s motionless body. Techno’s arm lowered slowly, and Wilbur wanted to roll his eyes at the disturbed expression on his comrade’s face.

“Don’t feel bad for him, Techno.” Wilbur’s voice sounded hollow, even to himself. “Bad guys don’t feel sorry for the filth they trample on their way to get what they want.”


End file.
